


testing, testing, one two three

by gdragon (gdgdbaby)



Category: Big Bang (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdgdbaby/pseuds/gdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vague phantom tremor rumbles through the dreamscape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	testing, testing, one two three

**Author's Note:**

> possibly the most pointless inception au in the entire world, written for advent. originally posted at [livejournal](http://gdgdbaby.livejournal.com/98584.html).

The best part about drinking in dreams, of course, is that he can down as much alcohol as he wants while maintaining relative sobriety, and also not have to wake up with a hangover in the morning.

"You're missing the point," Seunghyun says when Jiyong voices this thought aloud. "People drink to get wasted." He takes a meaningful gulp of his vodka.

"Maybe I just like the taste."

"Well, you're out of luck there, too." Seunghyun frowns at his glass. "This definitely isn't vodka. It's fucking lemon-water."

"Mine's just juice." He shrugs. "That's what we get for letting Youngbae be the dreamer."

Seunghyun grunts noncommittally. He braces himself against the bar. "I don't even want to know what he thinks beer tastes like."

Jiyong chuckles and swallows the last sip of his drink, orders another from the vaguely familiar barkeep.

Tonight's a trial run for one of Tablo's new stabilizing drugs. The finer mechanics of the chemical compound escape him, but Tablo explained that the dream would be sustained several times longer than usual, the subject's projections would be docile for longer, and physical scope would be enhanced in all three dimensions—so Jiyong had gone all out when designing the dream.

He's rather fond of this latest set-up. It'd taken him ages to teach Youngbae the structure of it, but the extra effort paid off—Jiyong's subconscious slides easily into the flashing lights of the club, his projections dancing to whatever slick beats the DJ in the back is mixing. The main floor plan itself is simple, straightforward—your typical Saturday night party at your typical Saturday night bar. It's when they try to climb the stairs that things get tricky, because they're really in what amounts to a Mobius strip of a building: all roads eventually loop back to the same level, no matter how hard they try to get out.

"How long has it been?" asks Seunghyun—except the reflection off Jiyong's martini glass flickers, he blinks twice, and it isn't Seunghyun anymore but a leggy redhead in a tight dress and a pair of impossible heels, voice low and dripping with intent.

"You do these things on purpose, don't you?" Jiyong says, throat going a little dry. A vague phantom tremor rumbles through the dreamscape and he averts his gaze, checks his watch. "Youngbae's been gone for three hours, maybe four."

"Maybe he's just slow."

Jiyong exhales carefully. "He's got at least another two, provided your forges don't collapse the entire dream before he can finish the extraction."

"Oh, sorry," Seunghyun says, curls spilling over a bare shoulder. Jiyong catches a whiff of floral perfume and wrinkles his nose. "Am I being a distraction?"

The bartender comes back with Jiyong's new daiquiri and stares straight at Seunghyun, who rolls his eyes and sulkily turns around. When he twists back he's himself again, all covered up, the lines of his suit crisp and clean.

"Whatever, man," Seunghyun huffs as they watch the bartender go back to his business. "You like me better like this, anyway."

_I like you every way, truth be told_ , Jiyong thinks stupidly. He inspects the edge of his glass with studious force, avoids Seunghyun's searching gaze. Maybe dream-alcoholism was more impairing than he'd thought. "Hardly," he manages, and sticks his nose in his drink.

 

 

It takes Youngbae most of the last two hours to find the safe, by which time Jiyong's projections have become increasingly tetchy about the intruders. He and Seunghyun are pressed against each other in the middle of the packed dance floor when Youngbae finds them, waving the manila folder in his hands.

"I didn't even make it that hard for you," Jiyong complains, disentangling their limbs and smoothing his jacket down. "No militarized projections, simple passcode access—"

"Well, you know this design definitely works," Youngbae interrupts. He runs a hand through his hair and it sticks up at odd angles. "So what do we do now?"

"Can't kill ourselves out of the dream," Seunghyun mutters. "Tablo said that would drop us straight into limbo."

Jiyong fiddles with his watchstrap, still unnaturally cold around his wrist. The second hand ticks on. "We wait the last few minutes out." He signals the bartender for another drink.

"Your head has really weird ideas about how alcohol tastes, by the way," Seunghyun remarks.

Youngbae snorts. "I'm sorry I don't have the life experiences required to be a good dreamer. That's what Jiyong's for."

Jiyong laughs and closes his eyes. When he opens them again he's lying on a scratchy lawn chair in the real world, his watchstrap as warm as the skin of his wrist, light streaming in through the high windows of the warehouse. Seunghyun and Youngbae blink blearily at him. Tablo pulls the needle out of his arm and starts packing it back into the PASIV.

"How was it?" Tablo asks.

"Fine," says Jiyong. "Youngbae cut it a bit close, but everything worked. We'll give you a detailed report—"

"Later." Seunghyun pulls his own IV line out and stands, stretching. He's in worn jeans and a crumpled sweatshirt out here, garish print and all. Jiyong swallows a smile. "I need a drink."

"You just spent six hours drinking your sorrows away in Jiyong's subconscious," Youngbae points out, voice dry.

"Lemon-water, Youngbae," Seunghyun moans. He turns to Jiyong. "Are you coming?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

"No," he says, eyes crinkling at the corners, and drags him up and away.


End file.
